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( This makes Two Times she has been picked up in a manner outside of violence, and she's pleased to report that the experience is Very Different. It's far nicer, and she could get used to it — even if she is, perhaps, already getting a little too old for such things. She's running out of time to enjoy the novelty of it before she really is too old, before the teenage years hit and her small growth spurt of height hits with it.

She listens to him as they walk, leisurely and unhurried and comfortable; she does not stop for birds, they're too far away, and she has already gotten to pet two, even if one of the birds was a woman. She does stop for farm animals, and manages to add 'sheep' to her list of Things She Has Met — because apparently in the context of animals, met means touched.

Soon, nature is all around them, and she is smiling at the sight of it. It hasn't gotten old, not to a girl who spent her whole life within the confines of concrete and steel walls. )

Are they the same here? As they would be where we come from, on our world?

( Our world, because they come from the same one. She wonders — is he still alive there? She doesn't know. She wants to ask about something related to it, but-- she'll ask in a moment. When it feels more natural. )

[ Whether or not she's getting too old, Erik doesn't seem to care, perfectly happy to carry her if that's what she wants. He can't really remember being held like this, it was so long ago for him, that sense of protection and love he got from his parents such a vague, distant memory now. This is never not going to remind him of Nina too, but it's a gentle kind of ache, almost like an open wound healing.

He watches on with a gentle smile as she interacts with some animals on the way, glad she gets to have at least these encounters, since he doesn't know how lucky they'll get in the woods. Erik has found it surprisingly easy to cross paths with wild animals here, though he doesn't know if it's something to do with the place itself, the animals, or him. He likes to think that maybe it's his daughter's imprint on him somehow, even if it's likely not true. ]

Many of them, yes. But there are others, animals and creatures that we only know as mythical, so in our world they only exist in books and stories. [ As is the case with the Fae themselves. ] Do you have a favorite animal?

( Books and stories about mythical animals — this is a surefire way to tug on the strings necessary to get her perusing the books here. She'll start reading about them, which will only branch out into other forms of reading, a very good seed planted this afternoon.

As to the question, the answer comes immediately: )

Horses. They're wonderful.

( Horse Girl Laura, one day she will ride a real horse, not just the metal ones outside the grocery store. )

Do you?

[ Good, because even for how lacking it is in terms of useful information, the library's one of Erik's favorite spots here so far. He'll probably find her some books once he knows she's interested, glad to encourage a curious mind in just about any sense.

He chuckles when her question comes both quickly and enthusiastically, nodding. Absolutely no surprise that that's her pick. Having the question turned back on him does give him pause. He's never been one much to care for animals, really, and the ones he's interacted with most also come with sad memories. Cherished, but still. ]

Not particularly. Deer, I think. I've seen a few here.

Deer are pretty in pictures. ( She approves of this choice greatly — in part because: ) They look like small horses.

( She would like them almost as much, except you can't ride a deer, and they run away from you. Horses become your best friend — she assumes, particularly after seeing the Munsons' horses up close.

She likes that this is his favorite. It's very sweet. He could have picked anything from alligator to pterodactyl, but deer are nice. Maybe they'll see one today? If they come around here, it feels possible...

A few moments of quiet pass, and her earlier question finally floats to the top of her mind. )

Can I ask you something? ( Assuming it's a yes: ) If Charles was still alive where I come from, in my year... do you think you maybe are, too?

( Because if so... if so, maybe she could have somewhere to take her friends, once they make it out of America. Maybe they could have somewhere safe to go. )

[ Deer are more skittish, but that comes with them being wild animals, as opposed to horses. Still, he's found them to be harder to scare away here, so hopefully with some luck, she can at least see one.

She breaks the silence with a heavy question that Erik honestly isn't expecting, hadn't even thought of. He looks over, surprised by it and not really sure what to say, but running various options in his head. ]

It's not impossible. But I can't tell you for certain. [ He goes on to explain. ] I come from 1992. In my time, I live in an island sanctuary for mutants called Genosha. Charles has just joined me there. But I don't know if it lasts.

[ Few things seem to, at least good ones, when it comes to their kind. ]

( It's a long time ago, 1992, but it doesn't feel impossible. He looks healthy, and Charles had lived to past ninety. Would have kept on living a while longer, too, if it hadn't been for her and the devastation that follows her.

Genosha. She commits it to memory — Genosha. She's never heard it before, but there's a lot she's never heard of. An island of mutants would not be somethimg they taught the children about at Transigen — neither as a history lesson nor as a matter of current events, so she cannot know if that means it's gone or not. )

If- you find the way to make them send us back, and we go home to where we came from, can I come to find you? If you have the island, can I bring my friends?

( Once her friends are across the border. It's optimistic to believe he'd still be willing to allow the same things almost forty years later, that he'll even remember this conversation and remember that he liked her, but she would like to believe anyway. )

[ He doesn't really know if it still exists in her time, if it's still the same place he envisioned, the same place he built. She wouldn't know, of course, not with her background, but if Charles wasn't there anymore, it honestly makes him wonder.

Then again, they've gone their different ways so many times in the past. It would be easy to believe that Charles wouldn't stay in Genosha long, for whatever reason. Perhaps better than to think that Genosha is no more, in her time.

But her question is one that he can answer without hesitation, regardless of all those questions and uncertainties. ]

Of course. All mutants are welcome in Genosha, and you— you, especially. You'll have a place there, if it's up to me. [ She didn't even need to ask, honestly. ]

( You especially, he says, and her smile is small but sincere. She's less worried about herself; she could survive alone. She could make her way somewhere. Her friends, though... her friends, she worries about. If she knew they were going to wind up somewhere safe, she'd feel less guilt over staying here with him for so long. For enjoying it.

But if what the Fae say is true, it could also have been hundreds of years. She doesn't know. She just thinks that if anyone can figure out how to get them home it's probably Erik, and now she knows that if he does, she may still be able to see him again after.

This is a good trip, even excluding the animal petting, which obviously elevates it to a great trip. )

Gracias.

( She says, so busy smiling up at him she almost misses it — until it registers. A hand shoots out toward him on instinct, curling around his wrist, a silent don't move, and she tilts her head.

Keen hearing, keener smell. Something rustling underbrush, something alive and smelling like earth and fur and petrichor. There is something coming. )

[ Just because she can survive alone doesn't mean that she should. If there's still a safe haven, a sanctuary to welcome all mutants who want it, she has as much a place there as anyone else. Erik can't really know for certain that he would still be around, but if he was, he knows he'd be overjoyed to see her again.

He smiles back, warm and fond, getting just as distracted from their surroundings. She actually surprises him when she grips his wrist, but he stops almost immediately, looking slowly around them and fixing his gaze on a cluster of rustling leaves.

In a few seconds, the tip of an antler comes into view, though for now it seems the animal's not even aware they're there. Erik barely breathes, not because he'd mind if the deer ran off, but because he wants to give Laura a chance to at least see it. ]

( Her hand tightens on his wrist — not enough to bruise, just a firm, startled grip, like she's surprised to see what she's seeing even though they specifically came here for it, even though he told her they were in the area. It's just different, seeing them up close. And it is them, one stag and one tiny, slight doe, treading lightly through the underbrush. Only the top half of the former emerges, antlers rising high and alert and proud, its eyes seeming to land directly on Erik, inscrutable, beautiful.

It isn't that the stag seems afraid, but the doe seems braver, continuing on further out from the trees one tentative step at a time, neck extended, curious, edging toward them.

Laura holds her breath, afraid even exhaling too loudly will scare it. Painfully slowly, with delicate gentleness, she raises a hand, like an offering. It isn't her the doe is drawn to, it's Erik, but Laura's the one reaching out, Laura's the one within sniffing distance, and a velvet-soft nose brushes against the tips of her fingers. Behind them, in the treeline, the stag exhales a loud huff, dipping its head once, like an idle warning, but it does not otherwise move. Be careful how you treat the small one, that's what she'd like to imagine it means, but she doesn't know deer nearly well enough to translate. )

[ Honestly, Erik was counting on maybe crossing paths with some bunnies or a hedgehog, that kind of smaller animal that exists in much larger numbers here. To encounter deer, not just one but two of them, and so early on at that, seems like a sort of unique serendipity that warms his heart.

Both creatures seem oddly friendly, or at least far more willing to approach than Erik would expect. It's been the same every time he's come to the woods here, though he hasn't quite figured out why, but this time around, he's just happy that it's worked out this way.

His eyes are on the larger animal, just in case— even being largely skittish and more prone to fleeing, the creature is still large enough to cause damage if it wanted to. As the smaller one approaches Laura, allowing her to touch, Erik's attention shifts, memories only really hitting him when her fingers slowly brush up the doe's head. It hits him hard and suddenly, though he doesn't make a single sound, even when tears well up in his eyes. Even wiping them away isn't an option, when he knows the slightest sound or movement could scare them away. ]

( Is anything truly serendipity in a realm made of wonder and magic? There's an equivalent amount of sadness and whimsy as there is darkness and trickery in the home of the fae; things are as beautiful as they are wrenching, as precious as they can be deadly. Perhaps it's that. Perhaps it's the magic Erik's been given, or perhaps it's the pain in his heart.

Or perhaps it's nothing, just coincidence, or that the trail they're traveling is actually a game trail commonly tread by several local creatures. It's impossible to know.

Laura is enraptured with the entire experience, the feeling of soft fur under her fingertips, the quiet, fragile feeling of the moment and how hushed the atmosphere has become to accommodate it. After a few stretching heartbeats, she flicks her eyes up to Erik to see what his reaction is to it — she's expecting one of those smiles he sometimes levels at her.

Not tears.

Her hand falters, dropping — and the doe pulls away, crossing the path to the forest on the opposite side. She's disappointed to see it go, and disappointed to watch the buck begin to stride after it with grace and majesty, until both are gone from her sight, then her hearing, then her smell.

Only then does she finally break the quiet. )

¿Estás herido?

[ Regardless of their current setting, it's still a nice enough coincidence for Erik to marvel at it. Then again, he's not very used to things that are simply good without consequence. It's a nice, simple moment without complication, even with the memories of what he's lost that come with it.

He does notice both animals leaving, and he knows Laura's attention has shifted to him. Knowing there's no risk of scaring off the animals, he quickly wipes his free hand across his cheeks, pushing down the emotions threatening to push past the surface as he shakes his head at her. ]

Estoy bien.

[ He does smile at her then, once he has a better handle on himself, if only to reassure her. ]

It was only a memory. [ Because he doesn't want to lie to her, but he also doesn't want to talk about it right now. ] Do you want to keep going?

( She wants to ask, of course she does — but she's perceptive. For a girl kept in captivity, she's demonstrated a fairly impressive tendency to read people. It might be because of the captivity, because of the constant need to walk on eggshells, to monitor body language for either threats or softness that can be taken advantage of. To anticipate based on expression what is in store for her. It served her well with Logan, and it's serving her again now.

He does not want to talk about it. She thinks of the day on the beach, when they both cried together. She knows he lost Charles, but she's beginning to think there's an echoing pain other than him.

So she holds his hand more tightly, and shakes her head. )

I'm tired now, and nothing will be as wonderful as the deer. Can we go back?

( She isn't tired; she doesn't get tired, physically. But she wants to make him comfortable, and besides, he kept his promise — she got to meet a lot of animals today. It has been good. )

[ He knows she's not tired. He also seriously doubts she wouldn't be happy to meet other animals out here, so he knows she's only saying this for his sake. He wants to tell her that she doesn't have to, that he really is fine, he would be more than happy to continue— but she's also right in that it was a wonderful encounter, in spite of the barrage of emotion that came with it.

So he's glad to call it a good day. Consider it a small victory. He smiles a litte warmer and squeezes her hand back, nodding at her question. ]

Of course we can.

[ Chances are they'll run into other animals on the way, but even if not, he's content to just talk to her, explore their surroundings a little more as they head back to the castle grounds. ]

( They walk back together — and as they go, she holds his hand the whole way. Even though he isn't sad anymore, even though she has no excuse for it, he doesn't take it away from her, and so she keeps on holding. This is the kind of casual touching that she grew up without, that she seeks out perpetually and cannot find. That she's seen parents do with their children. That he lets her do it is almost as nice as meeting the animals had been.

They go home. )

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wrapping; 😭